


Preserving Light

by makiii



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3532688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makiii/pseuds/makiii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a portrait artist, Killua puts all of his passion into bringing each of his paintings to life. He obsesses over making a perfect replica of the person sitting in front of him as he desires the portrait to be as lively as its subject. So when Killua learns that his vision is deteriorating and that he will soon go blind, he wants to paint one last portrait; a portrait of a subject that is the embodiment of light in his slowly darkening world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aahh, so this is my first fanfic ever! It's only fitting that I write it to my favorite pairing.
> 
> Killua and Gon are aged up several years; they're both 21. Other than that, this is an au where the hunter exam and whatnot don't exist. So it's just modern day in the city. The prompt is from here: http://auideas.tumblr.com/post/102537547462/1-is-a-portrait-artist-who-is-going-blind-xe
> 
> It's going to be pretty cute in my opinion, but I'll update the rating and stuff if anything happens. When new characters show up, I'll add them in the tags too.
> 
> Please, enjoy!

“How much longer?”

A soft voice materialized out of the silence that had encompassed the two figures who were seated across from each other: a boy and a girl nearly the same age. The voice seeped deep into the boy’s daze. It was a question that the other had the intent of asking nearly an hour ago, but the boy across from her looked so at peace that she had not wanted to disturb him.

The boy’s pale hand stilled its repetitive movements, the paintbrush he was holding drooped slightly. Slowly, his gaze trailed off of the canvas to focus on the girl who was sitting just behind it. Having barely regarded her for a second, he glanced back at his painting. It was probably three fourths of the way done and needed one more session of painting at the very least, but of course, the girl had to be there as well before it could be completed

With a light exhale, he swirled the paintbrush in the murky water contained in a jar off to his right. He hadn’t changed the water during their session at all, so it was essentially an opaque blue-ish grey with a tint of green. After he deemed the brush to be clean, he cast it away into another jar that held a cluster of different brushes.

“Can you come back tomorrow?” the boy asked, still not looking at her. Instead, he occupied himself with putting the caps back on his paint tubes. He knew she was starting to get restless from sitting still in the same spot for hours on end while he painted away silently. He wasn’t much of a talker when he was working.

She tapped her lower lip with a slender finger, thinking. Once her internal deliberation was over, she smiled and gave a sharp nod. “Yes, I’m free tomorrow. Same time?” she asked as she hopped off of the tarnished metal stool and began to gather her bag and jacket from the floor.

The boy made noise of agreement as he followed suit by lazily standing up from his own stool and buried his hands deeps into his pockets as he said, “That works. Just make sure you look the same then as you do now. It’d be a nuisance to have to fix anything…” he paused for a moment before he sheepishly continued, “Thank you again, Ponzu.”

Ponzu let out a clear laugh as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “We both know you just wanted to paint me because my hair is colored,” she stated, playfully winking and sticking out her tongue. “I’ll see you later, Killua!”

She turned and quickly left the studio, her sea foam hair swinging back and forth as she walked.  Killua puffed out his cheeks in annoyance at her previous display and held his breath for a few moments.

“Baaahh…” he released his breath, folding his arms behind the back of his head. “Whatever.”

A minute or so passed of him standing in silence before he glanced out of the large paned window and was informed that Ponzu was already walking down the sidewalk away from the studio. He couldn’t miss her if he tried; her hair was just too bright under the street-lamps. He snickered a little to himself. She was right though, her hair was really the only reason that he wanted to paint her. He hadn’t painted someone with unnaturally colored hair, so it obviously was a challenge that he wanted to partake in.

Upon further observance of the world outside, he noticed that the ground was damp. Dark puddles scattered across the cement all varying in size.

_Oh. It rained. I never noticed._

Killua pointlessly wondered how long and how hard it had rained for. Had it been a storm? If it was, did he not notice the lightning and thunder? Or had it been a light shower? Either way, the rain and clouds had swept away any hope of seeing a vibrant sunset for the last bit of the day.

He had a knack for losing all sense of time and all sense of his surroundings when he was painting, so he wasn’t particularly surprised that he had missed the rain and possible thunderstorm. Whenever he painted he would slip into his own little world. It was therapeutic in a way, repetitively layering and blending the colors on the canvas, the occasional glance at the person that would sit before him patiently. Thus, all his focus would be on what he was painting and the person in front of him. Everything else in the world was a mere background noise, nothing more than a blur. If he were to happen to notice something else when he was painting, it would simply recede from his memories moments later.

To Killua, his work was his solace. No matter how he was feeling, whether he was sad or happy, he would always find comfort in the way that his paintbrush fit between his fingers and the way that the paint would glide over the canvas. It was the only thing that he was actually serious about. Nothing else necessarily mattered to him as long as he could still paint at the end of the day.

Of course, painting wasn’t free. New paints and brushes and canvases didn’t grow on trees nor would they ever be handed out without charge. He didn’t need to purchase new materials too often, but when he did, it the cost really racked itself up. And on top of his trips to the art supplies store and extensive spending there, he also needed to be able to afford to buy food every other week or so.

So, to be able to juggle the costs of his hobby, his health, and whatever else he wanted to spend his money on, Killua worked as a bar tender at a local strip club. It was close enough that he was able to walk there, but far enough to know if anyone was trying to follow him home after his shift ended. It wasn’t exactly the job that he had in mind when he was younger, but once he moved away from his parents, he realized that working the bar in a strip club would be a good choice. It meant that he would get paid hourly by his employer, but he would also be able to get a large amount of tips from the sleazy people he served. Killua knew he was good looking, so whenever he was at his work, he flipped his switch and shamelessly flirted with everyone. He figured he made a couple hundred in tips every night, so it wasn’t too bad.

Pulling his stare away from the aftermath of the rain outdoors, he quickly put away his art supplies and cleaned up his station. He did not like for there to be much of a mess if it could be avoided, but there were just certain paint stains and dried patches of paint that could never be cleaned up.

To be fair, messes didn’t bother him. He only cared so much about his painting messes because if he slacked off on cleaning up, some of his supplies might get ruined or he’ll just have thick chunks of paint dried on his palette by the end of the week.

Once he was finished with his cleaning and organizing of his supplies, Killua looked over his portrait of Ponzu and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as Ponzu’s likeness smiled back at him. He was proud of this piece and felt that he had captured her essence perfectly.

_Thank god I got it right the first time…Ponzu would have my head if I made her sit longer than necessary._

Killua grabbed a time-worn sheet that was resting at the feet of the easel and simply draped it over the now-dry painting. The only purpose behind covering all of his paintings was to keep the dust off of them and to prevent the uninvited sunlight from damaging his pieces. He would put curtains up if he could, but the windows take up nearly the entire walls so he didn’t bother with it.

A shrill noise shot through the air that made Killua jump and frantically search about for the source of the sound before realizing that it was coming from his back pocket. Shoving his hand in there, he dug out his phone to turn off the alarm.

_Shit, how’s it 10 pm already? Damn it…I really need to start paying more attention._

And with that thought, Killua left the studio in favor of his bedroom so that he could take a shower and change out of his ragged painting clothes. He could feel that it was going to be a long night tonight tending the bar at the strip club.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flash of warm, amber eyes.
> 
> There was concern in them.
> 
> Who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd, so if you see any mistakes, please tell me c: 
> 
> Yay! Next chapter! I updated early since I won't be able to update this weekend because I'll be at Shuto Con.  
> I track the tag fic: preserving light, and I post the updates in there too.
> 
> (This chapter could be a little triggering to some, mostly the end portion, but I felt like I should mention that just in case)

“Hey babe, are you free after your shift? You should come back to my place with me.”

“God, I know you’re a guy, but _shiiit_ you’re hot…”

“His hair looks so soft; I want to tangle my hands in it.”

Ah, a typical night. The shady men crowded around the bar, downing drinks as fast as Killua concocted them. One would think that they would be more interested in drinking beer at a strip club, but Killua assumed that they gravitated towards the specialty drinks so that he would focus his attention on them. It really was the same as every other night; the customers had flooded into the club, half of them drunk before they even stepped past the bouncer and the other half were starting to work up their buzz from the bar. Of course, just because some of them were already drunk didn't mean that they didn't abstain from alcohol from the rest of the night. Nope, it just meant that Killua had to handle those reeking of alcohol before the night had even begun, which wasn't his favorite thing in the world to deal with because by the end of the night everyone would mostly be intoxicated, so why would he want to start with the drunken torment early?

Luckily, since he started working here a few months ago, he never actually had any horrible encounters with the patrons. Sure, there were always customers that would say absolutely filthy things to him, but there was never an incident where he was attacked, so he was thankful for that. He only had to tough his shift out for a few hours, and then he could go back home to his quiet apartment, free of geezers.

He sighed to himself. _That’s right. Just a few more hours._ Killua scooped up some ice and then let the frosted cubes clink their way against the walls of the glass until they settled at the bottom. Turning to face the shelves at the back of the bar, lined with nearly every popular brand of liquor in an array of shapes and colors, Killua reached for the dark brown bottle of whiskey and huffed. The shelf it resided on, however, was just out of his reach, and he could barely brush his finger tips against the cool glass. It wasn't that Killua was _that_ short. Of course not. Five foot nine inches is a respectable height. These shelves _must_ have been made for basketball players or giants or something ridiculous.

“Nnng,” he grumbled, gritting his teeth as he pushed up on his toes and stretched himself vertically even further. Yet, as he stretched, he could feel a cool touch of air on his lower back and he instantly knew that his shirt rode up. With an ear towards his once customers and now audience, he could hear their hums and whistles. Killua shuddered, feeling disgusting from all of their unsolicited and gawking eyes boring into his exposed back.

His fingers latched around the liquor bottle tightly, as is it were a lifeline, and quickly shrank back down to his normal unimpressive height, his shirt returning to its proper place on his back. A bright smile over took his face to mask his revulsion, and he turned on his heel walking back to his position at the counter.

Killua laughed childishly, rubbing the back of his fluffy hair in an abashed manner. “Haha! Wow, that was a lot higher than I expected!”

Everyone that had stared him down when he was reaching for the damned bottle got a perverted glint in their eyes, creepily seeming to enjoy Killua’s innocent and childish act for the moment.

 _I really hate myself,_ he thought to himself after seeing the reactions that his actions had elicited. _It’s not a big deal for the most part, but sometimes it crosses the line. I really wonder how I’m able to keep this crap up._

Killua knew the answer though. He would never give this job up. It was only a few hours of work, and it made a lot, and it didn't conflict with his painting. So he figured that the people he had to serve were just his punishment for getting a job with so many benefits.

The women in the club were almost never a problem, albeit they were a minority in the sea of beards, sweat, and desperation. All the women ever did was make some comments here and there about Killua’s look and then giggle with a liquor encouraged blush spread across their cheeks and necks. They were virtually harmless, but a few bold ones would grab at him every once in a while and try to run their hands down the front of his chest. He overlooked it though, because all he had to do was flash a smile, say a few sweet words with a voice like honey, and he would quickly rack up tips.

The problem, however, was the men of the bar. They were a lot more foreboding than the women…and they tended to not back off. Instead of walking away after a couple minutes of talking with Killua, they would hang around the bar and stare him up and down. It made him uncomfortable, yes, but as long as they kept tipping him, he didn't care. Some of them, in their drunkenness, often would even mistake Killua for a girl because of his slender body and the fact he lined his slanted eyes with sharp dark wings, giving him an appearance closer to that of a cat.

Green and pink lights flashed and spanned across the stage, occasionally reaching the back to illuminate the bar and gleam in the perspiration slicking everyone’s skin. With each cycle of the stage lights, they would catch the iridescent glitter Killua had dusted on his neck, cheeks, and collarbones.

A man spoke loudly against the reverberation of the music and the clamor of the other men’s voices, “Killua! You look like a fuckin’ opal with that glitter and these lights, are you gon’ dance for us tonigh’?” He held his drink above his head, sloshing it around.

 _Opal?_ Killua laughed to himself inwardly. _First time hearing that one._

In his 21 years of life on this earth with skin only a few shades off from being translucent white and hair that was even a purer white, Killua had heard his fair share of taunts and compliments.

“No, I don’t dance,” Killua responded, barely loud enough to be heard over all of the noise. Yet, he knew that the men heard him because they were hanging onto his every word. He leaned up against the bar’s counter, cocked his hip out to the side, and rested his head in the palm of his hand. Lowering his lids, he stared up at the men through his snowy lashes heatedly.

The men were all on edge at his display, practically falling over in anticipation for what Killua would say next.

And what Killua was about to say next, he quickly realized that he shouldn't have. The teasing and flirting he was doing was far more over the top than what he’s done any night before, yet for some reason he felt like really pushing it tonight. And it was a mistake.

 “…but I’m good at doing other things with my hips,” he breathed, tugging lightly at the collar of his v-neck.

The men that were practically drooling in front of him went silent. The music still pounded in the air, and the lights were still flashing, so Killua knew that time hadn’t stopped even though he was just as shocked frozen at what came out of his mouth as those crowded around the bar.

His hand fell from his shirt’s collar like a dead weight, and he straightened up from his position propped against the counter. Finding his lower lip tucked underneath his teeth, Killua took a step back. He had stepped into a territory that he shouldn't have stepped in, even if he was just teasing. Because the men in front of him couldn't tell that he was teasing. What Killua had just done was almost the same as dropping chum into an ocean full of sharks. He was screwed. And to top it all off, he essentially just dug his own grave.

There was no way in hell he was going to be able to shake them off now.

Fear buried itself deep in Killua’s chest. The light hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end as a tremor shot down his spine. He could feel the shift in the atmosphere that surrounded the bar. It shifted from blatant desperation and lightheartedness into something heavier that was a mixture of lust and danger.

_Yeah…this is how I die, I bet. I’ll put 50 boxes of Chocorobos on suspicion that the two on the far right will jump me and pin me to the goddamned floor._

His thoughts raced about what could happen in the next few moments, but before letting too much time lapse, Killua launched off to the right and rapidly weaved through the other customers that paid him no mind. His frantic blue eyes darted about his surroundings, squinting past the flashing lights and looming figures until he spotted the familiar hairstyle of his co-worker.

“ _Menchi!_ ” Killua cried out to the tall woman with her hair wrapped into five knots in front of him. He latched onto her arms and swung himself behind her while pushing her forward in direction of the bar. “Please take care of the bar, okay? Thanks, I totally owe you one! I’ll take you out to that really fancy restaurant you like, just please take care of the bar so I don’t die today,” he rambled on, his words going a mile a minute as he desperately tried to convince her to take over for him.

Killua could practically see the veins popping in her forehead as she glared him down. He shrank back a step, almost regretting his decision of coming to her.

Folding her arms over her chest, Menchi took a stance; her high heel boot clad feet set a shoulder’s width apart. She commanded authority, and Killua nearly felt he should be on his knees begging instead.

He really didn't know how she did it, but she looked terrifying even though her knee-high boots had a column of pink bows on the front and her upper half was covered only by a black bra because the sheer black crop top she had on over it did nothing to conceal what was underneath.

He swiftly realized that if he was going to die today, it would be by her hand.

Menchi snarled at the white haired boy in front of her, “If there’s any reason you should fear death, it should be because of _me._ ” She moved to point an angry thumb at her chest, her other moving to rest on her now cocked out hip.

And there it was. Menchi had confirmed it. He was a goner.

Killua whipped his hands up and waved them in front of him hysterically in what he hoped appeared to be pacification. He started, “Menchi. Please. I’m not kidding. They probably want to eat me alive, please just take-”

She cut him off.

“They?” She inquired, starting to understand what was happening even though Killua never gave her much information.

He nodded, looking over her shoulder only to see the horde wandering around looking for him. “Yeah. I accidentally-”

She cut him off again with a wave. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it. Grab your stuff from the back and exit through there,” she said composedly, seemingly over her anger. Before Killua could say thank you, she had already turned away and was halfway to the bar.

He smiled to himself and made his way into the back room lit with a red sign that had “Employees Only” written in script. For as much of a temper Menchi had, she was always reliable.

When Killua had first started working at the strip club and had met Menchi, he immediately wanted to paint her because of her sea foam hair color. However, as instantly as he thought that, he erased it from his mind because he had also gotten a taste of her temper that day as well. It was a stroke of luck that he happened to meet Ponzu who had nearly the same hair color as Menchi, so he was satisfied with painting someone who wouldn't try to snap his canvas and sharpen the ends of his paintbrushes so that they would resembles spears and proceed to fling them at him.

In the back was a decent sized room with dim lighting compensated by several makeup vanities with bare bulbs surrounding the mirrors. He made a beeline for the back coat rack, wasting no time in slipping on his black hooded jacket. Once his task was accomplished, he promptly exited out the back door and stepped out into the damp alleyway behind the club.

Killua let out a weighted sigh, hoping to erase his mind of the craziness that just occurred. He closed his eyes and walked in the direction of his apartment building, breathing in through his nose to calm himself down.

_I’m going straight to sleep when I get back. And then I can get up and paint something early in the morning and then I can meet up with Ponzu later. All of this just so that-_

Killua’s back crashed into the brick wall.

“ _Oof!_ ” He sputtered, his breath effectively knocked out of his lungs. A sharp pain shot through the back of his head and tears pricked in his eyes. Dark black spots danced across his field of vision and he was feeling lightheaded.

_What the fuck…what happened?_

Lolling his head to the side, his sight dazed in and out of focus, but he was able to discern that what shoved him into the wall was the shadowed figure in front of him. He couldn't make out any details about what the figure looked like or the clothes on it, but he was able to tell that it was definitely a male.

“Aaah, Killua, I've got you all to myself now it seems,” the man’s velvety voice murmured into Killua’s ear as he nuzzled the side of the boy’s head. His breath was hot against Killua’s neck; dampening the skin and making the boy feel clammy.

Not too much was registering to Killua though. His mind was spinning, and he was only picking up bits and pieces of what was happening. His vision still danced, but he was beginning to get a hold on it; however, the world around him was already devoid of light and there weren't any streetlamps in the dank alleyway to give any aid.

It took Killua a moment to realize that he wasn't even holding himself up, and that his body was instead limp, and the man was holding him up by pressing his body into Killua’s so that the boy was sandwiched between his attacker and the brick wall. A warm, thick fluid trickled down the back of Killua’s neck. Panic flooded through his body, putting him on hyper alert and waking him up again.

 _Is blood dripping down my neck?_ He thought wildly, feeling the liquid drip down under his shirt and between his shoulder blades. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

He lifted his head in an attempt to get a look at the perpetrator now that his consciousness was returning to him. Instead, he was met with a face full of hair as the man’s face was still pressed into his neck. Killua grimaced, trying to push the man off only to find that his body was still far too weak from being thrown into the wall to fight back.

_I’m so fucking screwed._

The thought arrived in his head as fast as it exited because at that moment, the man pressed against him ran his tongue up Killua’s pale neck and flicked around the back to taste the blood that stained the skin there.

“Oooh, we’re going to have so much fun…”

The man then bit and tugged at Killua’s ear lobe, his left hand collecting Killua’s wrists and holding them above his head while the right hand roamed up and down the boy’s body.

Killua struggled against the restraints that the man made of his hand. _Damn. He’s too strong. But I’m also really weak right now. Fuck._

The roaming hand slithered its way up underneath Killua’s shirt and jacket, working against the soft skin to memorize Killua’s angular body. It pressed over his stomach, slid over his jutting hip bone, and traced its way up his side.

Killua trembled, feeling as though his skin was crawling. The tears that had been in his eyes when he met with the wall were now back and overflowing and streaking his pink tinted cheeks. His breathing sped up, becoming ragged, and his nostrils flared. He was starting to panic.

The man in front of him chuckled sickly, getting a rise out of Killua’s reaction. His hand started to travel back down Killua’s chest, causing his stomach to churn.

A shout, broken with sobs and fear, erupted from Killua and resounded in the alley.

“ _h-HE-ELP!_ ”

He broke down into a fit of sobbing, trying to thrash his way free. His mind was blanking out. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to him.

The man tsk-ed away and Killua thought he heard him say that he was being a “naughty boy,” and let Killua’s body sink down to the alley ground with him, the left over rain water soaking up into their pants.

Killua was fading in and out of consciousness again.

His vision streaked.

His heart constricted.

He caught a glimpse of a pair of yellow eyes looming over him.

Darkness.

Running feet.

Splashing water.

Thuds.

A struggle.

A flash of the alley angled sideways.

Darkness.

A flash of warm, amber eyes.

There was concern in them.

_Who?_

Darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much longer! A little over 3,000 words ;u;  
> The last scene was painful to write, so sorry if it seems rushed uwu


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever’s bed this is…they smell so good. Just like the forest after rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I just wasn't feeling up to writing last week ;A; But the convention was a lot of fun!
> 
> Gon and Killua get to talk in this chapter! FINALLY! 
> 
> Also, thank you guys so much for all of the positive feedback! It keeps me motivated to not let this fic die c: So I'm really happy that you guys like it thank you thank you!
> 
> Again, it's not beta'd, so tell me if you find any mistakes, etc uwu

There were very few moments that Killua had experienced that caused him to fear for his life. It was barely a handful of experiences, but they were enough to stick with him years later. Yet, after what he had experienced in that grimy alley, the incidents that he dealt with years ago would be insignificant and make him feel silly for ever considering his life to be in danger.

One of the incidents that had always stood out in Killua’s memory was the time that went into his brother’s room without permission. At the time, Killua was a small pallid puffball of a five year old who was interested in constructing play fights between his toy truck and dinosaur. Now, of course, any five year old would get a little bored after playing with the same two toys for extended periods of time, wouldn’t they? So, naïve little Killua had remembered a conversation between two of his brothers; Milluki and Illumi. The conversation was about a large amount of toys in Milluki’s room. Killua had lit up at the prospect of a lot of new toys, so he set off on his new venture to his brother’s room.

Killua knew Milluki didn’t like anyone inside his room, so he had snuck in quickly and planned to only be in there for a few minutes. Yet, once he flicked the light on, he was overcome by all of the shiny figurines that lined the shelves, rows and rows of them on every wall. At this point, Killua was overridden with excitement and wasn’t thinking properly, so he had done something that he would soon regret. He had lunged forward to the nearest shelf, truck and dinosaur in hand, and initiated a battle royal with Milluki’s figures. The only thing that had stopped Killua from ravaging the final shelf in the room was the enraged squeal of his brother as he returned to his anime infested fortress only to find it destroyed.

What happened next was not something that should ever happen to a five year old, and it was enough for the young boy to wonder if he would ever have the measly chance to live to see another day. It was enough for Killua to refuse to walk down the hallway that housed the entrance to Milluki’s figurine hell until he was eight. And it was enough for Killua’s mother to pull him from school until all of the young boy’s injuries were healed.

It’s funny how fears can change so quickly.

Killua probably won’t be walking down any alleyways anytime soon just like how he avoided Milluki’s hallway like the plague.

A dull pain throbbed in Killua’s head, starting from the back and reaching for his eyes. It wouldn’t stop, but it was consistent at least. It was like a broken record stuck in an infinite loop; a heavy ache from the back, a lesser pain that spreads everywhere, and the pain as it recedes back to its origin. The movement of the throbs was reminiscent of ocean waves. Killua vaguely wondered how long it would last and if Tylenol would help.

A few minutes prior, Killua had woken up, except he had refused to open his eyes. He could clearly remember the events that had happened after he tried to leave the strip club up until the point that he blacked out, but he didn’t want to know where he was right now.

Not just yet.

He wanted to wait.

Even without opening his eyes, Killua was able to tell that he was not in his own bed. The mattress that his sore body rested on was far softer and larger than his and the blankets that pressed over him were thicker and heavier than his own. Based on this, he knew he wasn’t even at a hospital. If he were, the bed would probably have made him ache more from being less comfortable and he’d probably be chiller from the lack of thick blankets.

Wherever he was, he was grateful for the bed he was placed in.

A deep woodsy scent intoxicated him as he drifted more and more out of his groggy post-sleep state. Dragging in an extended breath from his nose, he dipped his face into the pillow beneath him, knowing that’s where the smell was coming from. With his face buried in the pillow of a stranger, the sides of his mouth tugged upwards in bliss and with a sigh, Killua pulled his face out of the pillow so he was laying on it like he was earlier.

 _Whoever’s bed this is…they smell so good. Just like the forest after rain_ , he mused to himself contentedly.  The scent was almost enough to pull him back into another cycle of sleep despite the constant pangs in his head and the fact that he should probably figure out where he was.

The door creaked open and then clicked shut, somewhat heavy footsteps attempting to be quiet drifted over towards him.

Killua’s breath hitched for a moment in concern of the stranger now occupying the same space as him, but he knew he would either have to open his eyes and confront the person or pretend to be asleep. He chose the latter. Slowing down and deepening his breath as much as he could to replicate a deep sleep, he faked unconsciousness as the stranger approached.

They were standing right next to the bed now, a breath away from Killua.

A cold soft hand gently brushed away Killua’s sweat matted bangs and pressed up against his forehead. He fought back a tremble. The hand was there for just a few seconds before it pulled away. He could tell that it was a man’s hand though, since it was wider and a bit rougher that what he found most women’s hands to be.

_Why is my hair all sweaty?_

He didn’t notice that earlier. He also hadn’t notice that his skin was just entirely clammy. The headache and scent off the pillow seemed to have been enough of a distraction to have kept Killua from realizing that he freezing and his body was jolting every so often in a weak attempt at a shiver.

The man’s hands returned, but this time they were at Killua’s shoulders, rolling him onto his back and adjusting his head so it was facing the ceiling. They withdrew again, and just when he thought the man was done, Killua’s forehead was met with ice cold and damp rag. He successfully repressed a startled jump, his eyelids fluttering instead, silently praying that his status of consciousness wasn’t given away.

He assumed that it wasn’t because the stranger left without a word, just a click of the door.

Killua let out a ragged sigh and decided that it was about time that he opened his eyes.

It was dark inside the room. But he could make out the different amenities in it like the long dresser on the other side of the room, a tv, side tables. The works. He couldn’t really tell what they looked like exactly, just what they were.

On the bed side table to his left was a digital clock that read 9:45 in dull green numbers. Killua moved his stare to the ceiling.

 _9:45, huh? I must have been out for a day at least because it was 10 pm when I_ arrived _at work._

He freed his arms from the restraints of the heavy blankets, reaching up and removing the cold damp rag from his forehead. He felt cold, shivering again.

_I probably have a fever. That would explain the cold and the sweat._

He felt a pang at the back of his head again.

“Tsssss….” Killua cringed, letting out a pained hiss from between his teeth, moving to sit up. He still felt weak and the movement made him a tad dizzy, but it was nothing he wouldn’t get out. He looked back over at the clock on the side table, his eyes beginning to adjust, and noticed that there was a glass of water and some medication resting in the dull red glow of the numbers.

He smiled a little, grateful once again. Grabbing the medicine, he saw it was a fever and pain reliever. Not wasting a moment, he snatched up the water and graciously took the appropriate dosage with a swig of the icy cool liquid. Before he knew it, he had drained the water in the tall glass and set it back on the table with a pleased hum.

Killua adjusted himself so he was sitting cross legged on the bed, swaying gently every once in a while, attempting to get his bearings. He ran over in his head what had happened the previous night several times over. Groaning lightly, his head drooped into his hands where he grumbled into them.

“Why did I leave out the back alone…”

It wasn’t a new development that dangerous people hung out in the alley behind the strip club in wait of someone who was alone and distracted to prey upon. There was even a sign on the back exit of the club with a warning to not leave on your own, and if you do leave on your own, to be armed and on your guard. Killua was just too worked up that he entirely forgot about it.

He glanced back at the clock. 10:06.

His headache had stopped but there was still a pain that resided there.

 _Oh yeah,_ he thought.

He touched the back of his head lightly, his fingers coming in contact with a wrap of bandages.

_The guy who attacked me slammed me into the wall._

That would definitely explain the pain.

Killua looked about the rest of him for more bandages and found several of them patched along his arms and neck and one on his cheek. He could only imagine how much of a wreck he looked like; probably paler than usual, more than likely a feverish pink dusted across his cheeks and chest, possibly dark violet bags rimming the bottoms of his eyes, hair matted with sweat and sticking out every which way. He probably looked like quite the looker if his guesses were right.

When he was inspecting the rest of his injuries, he had also noticed that his clothes had been changed, and he wasn’t covered in mud, dirt and blood like he would have expected. Instead of feeling like his privacy was violated, he just assumed that the stranger had wiped everything up with a wash cloth instead of giving him a full on bath when he was unconscious. He shuddered a little at the thought.

Another glance at the clock. 10:22.

He rolled his eyes a little. Time really does fly.

Something nagged at the back of his mind; and it wasn’t the pain from his injury.

Killua rubbed the side of his face insistently. “What was it, what was it, what was-”

He froze, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Fuck. I was supposed to finish painting Ponzu today. She’s probably freaking out. I’m almost never not home…” He mumbled to himself, hand going towards the back pocket of his jeans where he slips his phone.

Except there was no pocket. Because these weren’t his jeans. They were the oversized sweatpants of that stranger.

Killua huffed and climbed out of the foreign bed only to find the world coming up towards him at a fast pace.

He managed to catch his fall with the death grip he placed on the side table, his breath hiking from adrenaline. The last thing he wanted to do was to knock himself out and be unconscious again. Gathering himself, he began to stand up and found the cause of his fall, or rather, trip.

The legs of the sweatpants were clearly intended for someone taller than him as they hung loosely around his hips and pooled at the hems around his bare feet. His face burned red in hot embarrassment. He felt like a child wearing their parent’s clothing. Even the white t-shirt hung off of his body noticeably enough.

He tried to not let this eat at his ego as he fumbled along the wall for a light switch and ah!- there it was. He flicked it on, squinting against the light. Quickly, Killua sought out his pants- which were washed and folded neatly on top of the dresser across from the bed- and dug into the pockets for his phone, coming up empty handed. He was bitter. The phone must have fallen out during the struggle.

“Whatever…” Killua sniffed, wiping his face. “…I should probably go thank that guy though.”

He turned slowly, abandoning the jeans on the dresser, taking careful steps to the door. He wasn’t interested in face planting in before he could say a word to the guy. At the door, his hand hovered over the metal knob before he grasped it tightly, taking a deep breath for a moment. He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, poking his head out and comically looking left to right. When the coast was clear, he crept out of the room and shut the door behind him. One side of the hall was a dead end and the other led to what looked like a larger space. He ambled over in that direction, finding that he was right: it was a living room.

It was quaint. There was a window, an entertainment center that was completely full of games and movies with a fairly good sized TV to go with it, a simple couch with some matching chairs, a glass coffee table.

The man wasn’t in there.

Killua let out a breath he hadn’t known that he had been holding. He found that his heart was racing and his movements were shaky. He chalked the shakiness up to be the fault of the fever. He heard sizzling in the room adjacent. The kitchen. And someone was cooking. And- he inhaled- it smelled fucking _good._ His stomach rumbled.

Not wanting to be noticed, Killua snuck over to the opening in the wall, his teeth digging harshly into his lower lip. Hands propped on the wall for support, he peaked inside and was entranced, slowly releasing his lower lip from the prison of his teeth.

Inside the kitchen was a man taller than him by at least four inches. His skin was a caramel bronze that seemed radiant even in the crappy light of the kitchen. His hair was dark and spiky, but it was long. Killua distantly imagined what it would look like if it were styled down. He concluded that it would be damn _fine_. The guy was muscular in a vague way, more toned than anything. He poked around at whatever he was cooking and Killua let his eyes travel down his back, lower, lower, low-

“Oh good. You’re awake,” The man chimed. He had turned around, wiping his hands on a towel.

Killua hastily straightened himself out and stepped out from his spot along the wall, a blush furiously raging across his neck, cheeks, and tipping off at his ears.

The stunning guy in front of him smiled in a way that was so pure that Killua felt his heart lurch.

_Why did I think that I was gonna die at the hands of Milluki? Why did I think I was gonna die in the alley? This is where I die. This guy is going to be the death of me._

Killua hadn’t spoken yet and the guy looked at him a bit worriedly, taking note of the red of his blush.

_Fuck he’s gonna think I’m a damned pervert, I can’t-_

He interrupted Killua’s thought with a concerned voice, “It still looks like you have a fever, here,” he turned off the stove and crossed the kitchen to a flustered Killua, putting his hands on the shorter’s shoulders and leading him to a chair at the counter, “take a seat. You need to take it easy.”

He sat, dazed. His shoulders burned where the guy’s hands had touched him. Blush not receding, Killua inspected the guy more now that he was up close; his bronze skin was flecked with slightly darker freckles across his shoulders, and his eyes were soft, warm and amber. They were the last set of eyes he had seen before he blacked out the night before. Now that he had a good look at his face, Killua decided that they were about the same age.

“Um...fever…yeah…t-thanks…for like,  uhh…ye-ah,” Killua coughed, his voice scratchy and sticking in his throat. _Fucking nerves._ “Thanks for helping me out. I a-uh…appreciate it.”

_Real smooth, Zoldyck._

The guy smiled lightly, seemingly to overlook Killua’s awkwardness. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad that you’re okay. And I’m glad I happened to be walking down in that direction…who knows what would’ve happened if…” he let his thought trail off as he wandered back to the stove so he could take care of the food. He grabbed to plates from the cabinet and set them on the counter before looking over his shoulder at Killua. “I’m Gon by the way, Gon Freecss.”

The man now had a name to his (gorgeous) face.

Killua cleared his throat, rubbing his palms against the thighs of the sweatpants. “I’m Killua…Zoldyck. Again, thank you.”

Gon finished up on the far side of the kitchen before returning to sit in the stool next to Killua, setting one of the two plates he had in his hand in front of the shorter boy. The smell of the food was tantalizing. Potatoes and chicken parmesan.

“I hope you like it. You’ve been out for a full day so I’m sure you’re starving,” Gon stated kindly, digging into his own plate of food.

Killua didn’t need an incentive; he grabbed his fork and practically started shoveling the food into his mouth; it was as good as it smelled, and he was half a second away from letting out a loud moan, but caught himself and covered it up with a little cough. _Oh my god,_ he thought inwardly tearing apart his insides, _he would think I really am a pervert if I moaned over baked potatoes._

They finished their plates in silence, Gon taking them to the sink when they were finished. Killua couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Why did you make food this late? It’s nearly 11 at night…” he questioned.

Gon laughed a little nervously, rubbing the back of his head, “Well…I figured you’d be up soon...”

Killua eyed him. “How’d you figure that?”

His copper savior pursed his lips childishly, unsure if he wanted to answer. “Well…When I came in to put the rag on your forehead, I knew you were fake sleeping…”

For some reason Gon was easy to talk to. Killua almost forgot that he was a stranger.

“Okay yeah I suck at faking stuff, but uh. Right. Why am I here and _not_ a hospital?”

Gon laughed again at that and Killua eyed him out of confusion, “Oh yeah, right, waking up in a stranger’s bed is odd, but you see, I have-”

The was a loud crash in the other room that sounded like the door had been busted open and slammed into the wall. Killua lunged out of the chair, startled, the dizziness returning to his head as he clutched the counter for dear life. He trained his eyes on the tall figure stomping away from the door.

“GONNN _NN!!!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if you can guess who just barged in? o:
> 
> (On a side note, if you want to read more Killugon, go check out the fic "Forever Mine" by Gabith, she's my friend, and she updates a lot, and her fic is super cute! It's a really interesting high school AU uwu)


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